


Paperwork

by SpicedGold



Series: Itachi/Shisui One-Shot Collection [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Family, M/M, More unnecessary cuddling, More unnecessary fluff, Sleepy ninjas, humour-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 18:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11812137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicedGold/pseuds/SpicedGold
Summary: Missions didn't often go wrong for Itachi. But when they did, they went . . . weirdly wrong . . .And interrupted his carefully scheduled paperwork.





	Paperwork

**Author's Note:**

> Because I am inspired by weird things, this is the result of the cat falling asleep on my lap, while I was sewing, and me cuddling him. Just some cute fluff I felt inclined to write. Maybe OOC; if it is, blame the cat.

Kakashi was a very skilled team leader, who rarely let anything go awry under his command. So it seemed mightily unfortunate that, on the return to Konoha, he was inspecting the little paper packet they had been tasked with retrieving and, in his quest to scrutinize it, he had taken his attention off their journey home, failed to notice Tenzou push a young green branch from his path, and the branch had snapped back into place, lashing into the packet.

It was a fairly innocuous looking packet. Kakashi’s team had retrieved it from a small village of ninja with questionable morals and even more questionable governing systems, as it was apparently a very potent sleeping powder that, if utilized correctly, might become a powerful asset on missions.

Naturally, Kakashi was intrigued by the possibility of this little baggie being so important, and interested in potions and apothecary in general, so he had been holding it in front of his face for most of the journey home, debating whether or not to open it and make his own small study of the contents.

The need to do so was mitigated as the branch burst the packet open, and white powder was suddenly expelled in an innocent looking ‘poof’. Kakashi froze on the spot, blinking slowly, and Tenzou turned around, opening his mouth to ask what was wrong and inhaling a mouthful of gently lingering dust.

And because Fate was against him, the final member of the team, one young Uchiha Itachi walked headlong into the cloud, lost in his thoughts until the world was suddenly powdery.

There was a short silence, and the powder dissipated calmly into the atmosphere.

“Um,” Kakashi said, still rooted on the spot. “That was unfortunate.”

“Is this stuff deadly?” Tenzou asked in a small voice.

“No,” Kakashi replied, adding, after a short pause. “At least, I’m fairly certain it’s not.”

‘Fairly certain’ did not sound encouraging enough for Itachi. He huffed, a small cloud of white rising off the bangs around his face. “Any suggestions, Captain?”

“Well,” Kakashi yawned. “Probably a nap.”

Itachi’s disbelieving expression would probably have been amusing in any other situation.

“We should get home,” Kakashi said. “Because this stuff is meant to be really good. We will probably be sleeping this off for days.” He carefully folded up the broken packet, preserving the rest of the powder inside, and marched strongly towards home.

Shaking his head, and raising a small dust cloud, Itachi followed.

 

Kakashi would record it later in his report, but that sleeping powder worked exceptionally well, and as he stood in front of the council to report the mission, he was blinking sleepily and yawning every few words.

“This is good stuff,” he said, a little blearily. “Highly recommend. Ten out of ten.”

There was stunned silence from the council.

“Feels like it’ll last for ages,” he yawned again. “I’m going to pass out now. Hope you don’t have any more questions.”

With that said, Kakashi keeled over, landing face first on the floor and looking very much set to remain there. A loud snore escaped him.

While the council blinked, astounded by this behaviour, Tenzou conked out next, at least having the wherewithal to sit down, face apologetic, before his eyes drifted closed, and he slumped down.

The only sound in the room was Kakashi’s snoring, and the council stared at Itachi, who was remaining standing only through bull-headed, stubborn will power. Even though his back was ramrod straight, his eyes lacked focus and his chin tipped down every now and again.

“I think,” The Hokage said quietly, pausing at another long, blissful snore from Kakashi, “That we should find someone to help them home.”

 

“And that is how I beat Kakashi at Rock-Paper-Scissors,” Gai finished proudly, grinning broadly, and ignoring the terse silence from the boy hanging off his shoulder. At this point, Itachi was being dragged more than he was walking, but he had his eyes doggedly open, his tenacity the only reason for his consciousness.

“I will tell you about the time we were in Suna,” Gai continued, cheerfully unaware that his captive, albeit dozy, audience wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to him. “We were on a two man team, and the wind had been howling all night-“

The urge to yawn was almost inescapable, but Itachi, gripping to the last threads of his dignity, fought it down. By the time Gai had dragged/escorted/carried him to his house, Itachi could just barely keep his eyes open. Gai very helpfully arranged him on his feet, so he didn’t look too comatose when Mikoto answered the door with a raised eyebrow.

“Good morning, Mikoto-san,” Gai bowed shallowly and nearly threw Itachi onto his face, but was alert enough to catch the young Uchiha as he toppled forward with no intent or ability to catch himself. “Itachi’s team ran into a bit of trouble on their mission. They seemed to have been exposed to some sort of sleeping powder. Do not worry, for he will be fine – he is young and vibrant, but he will need to sleep this off for a while.” Gai saluted, and Mikoto’s raised eyebrow lifted a fraction higher.

“I will return him to your care,” Gai grinned toothily.

“Thank you,” Mikoto said, eying her son as Gai stepped aside with a sharp movement. Itachi swayed for a moment, but caught himself.

Once Gai had left, Mikoto watched Itachi slide into the house, with movements dulled as though underwater.

“You should go to bed,” Mikoto said, following him in case he toppled over en route.

“I have mission reports to do,” Itachi said vaguely. He veered off course, and Mikoto gently guided him in a straight line before he could smash face first into the wall.

“Suit yourself,” Mikoto said, figuring it was better to just let Itachi do whatever he drunkenly believed he could. She settled down on the floor again, looking through the wide-open screen doors into the garden, and picked up the clothing she had been mending, wondering how long it would take before Itachi passed out completely. It didn’t look like he had far to go.

But, Itachi was nothing if not outrageously stubborn, and he determinedly fetched his unfinished reports and a pen, settling down next to Mikoto and putting pen to paper in a manner that seemed exceedingly childish, considering how his eyes were at half-mast already.

Mikoto stayed tactfully silent, continuing with her sewing. She watched out the corner of her eye as Itachi wrote a bit, sagged slightly to one side, shook himself, and tried to write more.

“You should sleep.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. His hold on the pen faltered slightly.

After a few more minutes, he tipped slightly to the side, eyes drifting closed for a moment. With a gentle sigh, Mikoto reached a hand out and put it around Itachi’s shoulders, pulling him gently down. He fell unresisting, head falling onto her lap.

“I’m awake,” he murmured, forcing his eyes open and looking around for the paper, pen poised.

“I can see that.” Mikoto kept her arm firmly on his shoulders.

Itachi did not try to get up. He blinked slowly a few times, before his eyes closed and stayed closed, and within minutes his breathing had settled into a steady rhythm. Mikoto brushed his hair from his face gently, then continued to sew with him sleeping soundly in her lap.

It was a peaceful moment, one she hadn’t realised she had missed. It had been years since Itachi had last let himself fall asleep anywhere near her, and the vulnerable tenderness of it tugged at her heart. She missed spending quality time with him. He had grown up too fast, unnervingly mature from a young age, and trivial things like having a nap with his mommy had left his schedule many years ago.

So having this moment here, however unwilling he had been to allow it, was still precious.

Once she had finished her sewing, she put it aside, and ran one hand softly through Itachi’s hair, combing out tangles, and when he remained completely oblivious, she leaned down to give him a soft, long overdue kiss on the forehead.

When Fugaku returned home for lunch, she was still sitting there with Itachi sound asleep, a hand now on his back, thumb rubbing circles on a hard knot of muscle in the hopes of loosening it.

Fugaku raised an eyebrow, but he whispered when he spoke. “Is he okay?”

“Trouble on a mission,” Mikoto replied softly. “He’ll be fine.”

Fugaku bent down to take the pen from Itachi’s hand, and gathered up his papers to put them neatly onto the low table nearby. He stared at his son. “We don’t get to see him like this very often.”

“No,” Mikoto agreed, still smoothing her hand over Itachi’s back. She explained the whole situation to him, mildly surprised when Itachi stayed dead to the world throughout their talking. He was usually awake at the slightest sound.

Fugaku watched him for a few minutes, his expression softening at Itachi’s quiet face. “I’m taking him to bed,” he mumbled. “He can’t sleep here, it’s uncomfortable.”

He leaned down to gather Itachi in his arms, and felt a slight tug at his heart, because how many years had it been since he was allowed to do this – to lift him up, and carry him to bed? The last time he could even remember was when Itachi was six years old, and so exhausted from training he’d fallen asleep at the dinner table.

When Fugaku straightened up, frowning a little at the fact that Itachi seemed too lightweight, Itachi stirred slightly, not quite able to get his eyes open, but able to murmur, “I’m awake. You can put me down.”

“I’m taking you to bed.”

“It’s fine. I need to work.” He was trying to open his eyes, but they weren’t cooperating.

“You can work later.” Fugaku was ready for a further argument, but Itachi fell silent again.

There was a beautiful familiarity to carrying his son into his room, and laying him gently down on the bed. It occurred to Fugaku that he hadn’t been this close to Itachi – physically and emotionally – in many months. He took his time carefully arranging Itachi the way he knew the boy liked to sleep – with one hand on his pillow, because he gripped it tightly when his mind raced unconsciously.

Mikoto was watching from the doorway by the time Fugaku finally straightened up, having undone the tie in Itachi’s hair and set it beside his bed. He walked silently from the room, stopping to look back at the for once relaxed young ninja on his bed.

“I know he’ll probably be very angry,” Fugaku said in a low voice. “But I really like the way this mission turned out.”

Mikoto smiled fondly. “So do I.”

 

Itachi was still asleep by the time evening rolled around, and Fugaku and Mikoto were feeling like the world’s most clueless parents, unsure if they should wake him up or not. They both peered into his room, noting him lying absolutely still, exactly where Fugaku had left him earlier.

“He hasn’t eaten all day,” Mikoto whispered. “Do you think he needs to eat something?”

“How long is he supposed to sleep for?” Fugaku whispered back. “Maybe this is too much sleeping.”

“He hasn’t had anything to drink either.”

“I think we should wake him up. It’s been hours.”

“I think we should let him sleep. If he needed to wake up, he would.”

They exchanged doubtful glances.

Mikoto frowned slightly. “The sleep is probably good for him.”

“But it’s been hours, maybe something is wrong. He never sleeps this much.”

They paused again, digesting this new information.

“It’s a bit like when Sasuke was a baby,” Mikoto said in a low voice. “We never knew what to do with him either.”

“I know. Itachi sort of . . . self-raised . . .”

“We should probably let him sleep.”

“We should probably wake him up.”

Mikoto made a noise of frustration. “He’s supposed to sleep this off, so maybe this is normal.”

“What if it’s not normal? What if it does something to him? How do we know when sleep becomes something more dangerous?”

“He can’t _sleep_ to death.”

“But what if he can? You said he should sleep for a while, this seems like more than a while.”

“I don’t know how long ‘a while’ is, no one told me an exact number of hours.”

Fugaku pursed his lips. “We should wake him up.”

“We should let him sleep.”

“Why are we whispering?” A third voice interrupted, and Mikoto and Fugaku jumped slightly.

“Shisui?” Mikoto whispered. “Why are you here?”

Shisui shrugged. “I heard Itachi was home. Is he alright? We don’t usually stand outside his room communicating in stage whispers.”

“He’s asleep,” Fugaku said.

“It’s the middle of the day. Itachi doesn’t sleep in the middle of the day.” Shisui frowned.

“Exactly. Maybe something is wrong, and he should wake him up,” Fugaku sent Mikoto a knowing look.

“There are extenuating circumstances,” she hissed back at him. “He is drugged! Not sleeping on purpose.”

“You should probably let him sleep then,” Shisui said, scratching the back of his neck. “Although, if he is drugged, maybe we should wake him up and check on him.”

Fugaku’s face deadpanned. “How helpful of you.”

“This is a bit like when Sasuke was a baby,” Shisui said, sounding oddly delighted at this comparison. “You had no idea what to do with him either. Itachi was pretty easy though, he sort of did everything himself.”

Both Mikoto and Fugaku stared at him.

Shisui shrugged. “Anyway. How long has he been asleep?”

“Since before lunch,” Mikoto replied.

“Oh.” Shisui sounded surprised. “That’s a long time. We should probably wake him up.”

Fugaku looked triumphantly at Mikoto.

“Of course,” Shisui said, peering into Itachi’s room. “If he’s been asleep this long maybe he _needs_ to sleep. Perhaps we should leave him alone.”

Mikoto shot her own knowing look at Fugaku. They stared at each other. Mikoto finally sighed. “Fine, we’ll wake him up. You do it,” she stared at Fugaku.

He stared back. “You do it. The last time I tried to wake him he nearly slit my throat. He doesn’t wake up quietly. You know he doesn’t.”

“That’s assuming we can even wake him up,” Shisui said with a half-shrug.

“You’re his father,” Mikoto said firmly, glaring at Fugaku. “Go check on your son.”

“You’re his mother,” Fugaku replied rather indignantly. “Why don’t you check on him?”

“I’m not stupid enough to go in there and wake him up. You wanted to wake him, I wanted to let him sleep. So you can go and wake him.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Fugaku frowned. “You’d need to be a complete moron to think you can just walk in there without him freaking out.”

There was a moment of silence before they both turned to look at Shisui.

He blinked.

And blinked again.

And suddenly protested, “Oh, hell no! I’ll have you know I’m a _genius_ , I’m not going to-“

“You’re his best friend, he won’t kill you,” Mikoto ushered him into the room, pushing him firmly.

“You’re his _parents_ ,” Shisui practically wailed. “And the last time I woke him up he almost broke my nose. He _jumps_ awake, he doesn’t wake up like a normal person.”

“We’ll be right here,” Fugaku said, blocking the door so Shisui couldn’t escape. “Don’t be a coward.”

“You’ll be fine,” Mikoto said encouragingly. “Just see if he’ll wake up.”

Shisui resigned himself to his fate. He edged to Itachi’s bed, looking as though the slightest sound would send him bolting from the room. He stopped a safe distance away, and whispered rather tensely, “Itachi? Are you awake?”

“Louder than that,” Fugaku said from the safety of the hall way. “He was really out earlier.”

Shisui sighed. He reached out a hand, laying it gently on Itachi’s shoulder. “Itachi? Wake up.”

When nothing happened, he sent a helpless look to the two parents standing and peering into the room.

“Try harder,” Mikoto suggested.

“Try harder to get killed,” Shisui grumbled. With a loud exhalation, he shook Itachi’s shoulder gently, “Hey-“

The movement was apparently enough. Itachi’s frazzled ninja nerves jumped into action, and before Shisui had a chance to react Itachi had flashed one arm out and punched him squarely in the nose, half sitting up as he did.

“Ow, damn it!” Shisui cupped his hands around his face. He could feel blood dripping.

“Shisui?” Itachi sounded dazed. “Why are you . . .? Where am I . . .?”

“It’s fine, sweetheart,” Mikoto said soothingly, entering the room now that the danger of getting sucker punched had been averted. “You’re home again. We were just worried about you.”

“I’m worried about _me_ now,” Shisui squawked, dripping blood onto the floor.

Itachi wordlessly reached under his bed and pulled a few tissues from the box there, handing them to his cousin.

“Why do you have tissues under your bed?” Mikoto asked, focused on the odd detail.

“He’s a teenaged boy, don’t ask,” Fugaku muttered, coming to stand next to Itachi’s bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” Itachi flopped down onto his back, eyes drooping slightly. They closed, and stayed closed. His breathing fell into its usual sleep pattern.

“Is he asleep again?” Mikoto whispered, as though Fugaku – or Shisui, dripping miserably into a clump of tissues – would know.

“I don’t know.” Fugaku said, reaching rather hesitantly towards Itachi, concerned in case he attacked again. “Itachi? You need to eat something.”

With a sigh, Itachi rolled onto his stomach and planted his face into his pillow.

“Wake up,” Mikoto said firmly. “We’re worried that you haven’t eaten. You can go back to sleep once you’ve had something for dinner.”

With effort, Itachi raised himself onto his elbows, blinking sluggishly. “Now?”

“Yes, now.”

With another, louder sigh, Itachi sat up slowly, wobbling a bit and looking as though he might fall over at any moment. He waved an arm around vaguely, until Shisui rolled his eyes, and looped that arm around his shoulders, hauling Itachi to his feet while still keeping his nose plugged.

Mikoto and Fugaku shuffled behind them as Shisui made his way to the kitchen with a zombie-like version of Itachi draped over his shoulders. They were slightly indignant that Itachi had signalled for Shisui to help him, rather than one of them, but it wasn’t overly surprising, since Itachi and Shisui spent almost all their free time together, and had carried one another home several times.

Shisui sat down, with Itachi propped up against his side, worried in case he let go and Itachi fell face forward onto the table. He didn’t seem to be trying very hard to hold himself upright. The most encouraging thing Shisui was gleaning from this situation was should there be some sort of zombie outbreak, he was confident he could outrun Itachi should the need arise.

“Sorry,” Itachi mumbled, eyes still closed, but one hand lifting to gesture vaguely towards Shisui. “’Bout punching you.”

“It’s fine,” Shisui said, with a rather nasally sigh.

“’M tired,” Itachi said, leaning a little harder into Shisui’s shoulder.

“Eat something first. Then you can sleep again.”

“I don’t think staying awake is going to be my decision,” Itachi said, and in the next instant he pitched forward; Shisui scrambled to catch him before his face met the table. He shrugged. “Yeah, he’s out again. I wouldn’t bother with food.”

Mikoto sighed. “Oh well.”

“I’ll take him back to bed,” Fugaku said, sounding a bit grumbly, no doubt because his literal prodigal son was in a woopsie-induced coma.

“I’ve got him,” Shisui said. “I’ll take him.”

Itachi had basically attached himself to Shisui anyway, there didn’t seem to be a point in trying to extract him. He was a sleepy little barnacle. Shisui carried him back to bed, and was then faced with the seemingly impossible task of detaching Itachi from his person. For some reason, the younger Uchiha had applied himself to his cousin like glue, and no matter what contortions Shisui tried, Itachi remained clinging to him.

Eventually, Shisui gave up, resigning himself to being aggressively cuddled all night, and opted to just stay with Itachi.

 

Late the next morning, Itachi blinked awake, sitting up and listening to the sounds of birds singing.

“You’re not dead,” Shisui mumbled beside him, face down in the pillow.

“Apparently not,” Itachi said. He stretched languidly, and Shisui winced at the sounds of numerous joints popping.

“So, awake again, are you?”

“It would appear so.” Itachi yawned once, then lay down again and snuggled back into Shisui’s side.

“Mission a success, then?” Shisui enquired.

“Probably. I’ll need to consult with Kakashi before I can make that conclusion.”

“Of course.”

When Itachi finally gathered the strength and inclination to get out of bed and get dressed, he went to find Kakashi, in case he missed something during his drug induced ‘nap’, as Kakashi had so accurately described it.

The Copy Nin was sitting cheerfully in the sun on a wall outside the Hokage building. “Good afternoon, Itachi. All recovered, I take it?”

“Yes.” The young prodigy raised an eyebrow. “You seem in a good mood.”

“That was the best sleep I’ve had in ages,” Kakashi said, smiling blithely. “How about you?”

“It was . . .” Annoying. Inconvenient. Undignified. “Fine.”

“Any side effects to report?”

And Itachi nearly said, “Cuddling”, but stopped himself just in time, because he didn’t think his dignity would recover from that little declaration. “None so far.”

“Great. Successful mission, then. Good job, Itachi.”

Apparently, a good night’s (and day’s) sleep did wonders for Kakashi’s attitude.

“Run along and have a nice day,” Kakashi waved Itachi away, as though the boy were a begging stray puppy. “We aren’t needed for a mission. I’m sure you have things to do.”

 _Yes_ , Itachi thought, turning away from the deliriously happy captain. _Paper work._

 

_< The End>_


End file.
